


How I Met Your Father - Through Tinder of Course!

by Lisacreature



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha America (Hetalia), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ghosts, Long-Distance Friendship, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega England (Hetalia), Omega/Omega Relationship, Online Dating, naughty ghosts, smug cats, sneaky France
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-04-07 15:38:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14084118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisacreature/pseuds/Lisacreature
Summary: Arthur Kirkland is a twenty-eight-year-old Omega who smells funny.He suffers from a condition where unlike other Omega's who have a heat each month, Arthur only gets one or two a year. This means he is not as fertile as other Omegas and doesn't smell like a normal Omega.Because of this condition Arthur pushes himself away from potential Alphas, that is until Francis meddles with his phone after a gruelling pub crawl.Now Arthur has Tinder downloaded on his phone and is receiving creepy, stupid and the occasional sweet messages from all kinds of Alphas, including one American called Hero4796.Could this lead to love?





	1. Drunk Downloads

Arthur Kirkland was what one would call a sour Omega, he smelt funny to Alphas and Omegas alike. The scent was indescribable, it was not the fruity or flowery sweetness of normal Omega’s, nor was it the salty scent of an Alpha and he had a smell, indicating that he wasn’t infertile. Some described his scent as like a herb, but what kind they all stumbled and disagreed on. For some it resembled rosemary, but for others it was sage. However, one thing could be agreed, Arthur was strange. Not just for his strange scent but his appearance too, with a pair of bushy eyebrows and a permanent scowl marring his face he was more often spotted alone rather than with company. 

Only those extremely close to Arthur, so his mother, brothers and strangely Francis, knew the reason for Arthur’s strangeness. Arthur was considered semi-infertile. Unlike most Omegas Arthur did not get a regular monthly heat, instead, he got only one or two a year and once none at all. The condition was called Polycystic Heat Cycle Syndrome, a condition that only a handful of Omegas ever experienced. Though technically, Arthur was not infertile, this condition meant that any future attempts at getting pregnant could be difficult. 

Arthur had been devastated when his doctor had given him the diagnosis. His mum was in the room with him at the time and had hugged him so tightly, his tears soaking her woollen, tie-dyed jumper. Apparently, the most common symptoms were acne and weight gain, two of which Arthur suffered with. 

Now, at the age of twenty-eight, Arthur had forever resigned himself to never having a child or meeting an Alpha to settle down with. After all, he was just too strange, and what family would want to give their healthy Alpha over to a useless Omega like himself. He knew it was unhealthy to think like that, but as the years passed with no dates, flirts or even potential flirts, Arthur pushed himself further away from social life, it hurt too much to try and it hurt to see others his age now in happy marriages and with pups of their own. 

He had friends, but except for Francis, they were either online or ghosts. Felix was in Poland, having returned back home after Brexit to start a fashion business in Warsaw with his Omega partner Toris. The two of them were both Omegas and refused to bow down to societal demands, they loved each other like any other Alpha/Omega pairing and were probably the bravest people Arthur had ever met. According to Felix’s last email, the business was going well and Toris’ new mini skirt design was incredibly popular. He would see them again soon he thought with a soft smile, the Christmas markets in Warsaw were a sight to behold and damn Toris could bake!

Lukas, his Norwegian pen pal for almost twenty years was doing well for himself, he had married last year to a loud and friendly Dane named Matthias, an overly enthusiastic accountant (of all things!) with a penchant for sailing and Viking re-enactments. The wedding had been beautiful, in Moaning Bay (Arthur and Felix had a field day with the amount of teasing poor Lukas). The area was a sight of natural beauty, including a place called Ruberg Knot – oh how they cackled at that, even Lukas’ recently discovered brother from Iceland, Emil, a normally quiet boy, had snickered at the name. The ceremony was small but a roaring success, with good food, excellent drinks and wonderful company it had warmed Arthur’s heart for weeks afterwards (or maybe that was just heartburn). Since the wedding, Lukas and Matthias had moved into an apartment in Christianshavn, Copenhagen and damn it did those two know how to do interior design! Must be a Scandinavian thing.

The only friend who was as single as Arthur, was Vladimir, his cosplaying Romanian university friend. They were both a wee bit fanatic on all things superstitious and magical and may have gone to a few Harry Potter conventions, late night Harry Potter film marathons and of course tried their hand at ghost hunting themselves – which didn’t end well, having booked a room together at the ‘The George Pub’, supposedly the most haunted pub in the Hertfordshire with its own violent poltergeist, they had stayed up until midnight where they promptly fell asleep and never saw a ghost or even heard some ghostly footsteps. The breakfast was good though. But, they just weren’t cut out for ghost hunting and so decided to leave it to the professionals. After finishing university together, they had rented a flat in Catford, London but then after years away from home Vladimir decided to go back to Bucharest and spend time with his family. Arthur couldn’t argue with him, it was the right thing to do, but after several weeks trying to find a new roommate he too decided that he could no longer live in London and so moved back to his home county, Hertfordshire, where his mum and brother still lived. 

Now, Francis was the only friend he had left that he saw on a regular basis. He was a pilot and so spent a lot of time abroad and of course being French had many Betas and Omega ‘friends’ in the many countries he flew to. Arthur had a terrible feeling in his gut that he was counted as being among these ‘friends’ – they had slept together only once! And it was not something Arthur never wanted to repeat. Not because it was a terrible experience, no it was pleasurable enough, but he had known Francis for the whole of his life and seeing your childhood friend in that way…it just didn’t feel right to him. Francis was flying into Stansted Airport on Friday morning and had the weekend booked off, they had planned to meet up at ‘The Cricketers’ for lunch. He would probably have to suffer through more gross retellings of lustful conquests. 

Arthur groaned in disgust at the thought, he dreaded to imagine how Mrs Bonnefoy, Francis’ mother, thought of her son's exploits. She was a glorious woman and probably the only person who could shut Francis up with just one look. Arthur made a mental note to ask her to teach him that technique next time he saw her. 

But aside from Francis, the only other companions he had was his black cat called Smokey and the ghost of Lady Charlotte who had lived in his house four centuries prior. They weren’t very talkative, but they appeared to like him, perhaps in Smokey’s case it was more the food and bed that came along with him, but Lady Charlotte didn’t care for those things, he couldn’t really ask her, that would be rude…and also, she couldn’t talk for some reason – maybe she was mute? 

And that was how Arthur found himself on the-Saturday morning, hungover and with a pounding headache that felt like Mohammed Ali had used his head as a punching bag all night, with Tinder downloaded on his phone. Francis was snoring in the spare bedroom, his white shirt hanging innocently over the bannisters, the collar littered with lipstick stains. 

He slowly and carefully hobbled down the stairs to the kitchen where he saw Smokey meowing at Lady Charlotte. She glanced up at Arthur, her long brown hair held up in an elaborate braid, this morning she decided to wear a dress the colour of jade that complimented her bosom and showed off her pale neck. She was not happy with Arthur though, with that frown she was wearing on her face. For some reason, she disapproved of Francis, granted he was a difficult character to like and even Arthur struggled to understand how he came to call him his friend (and one-time lover) – but he doubted her dislike was based on personality and more on nationality – after all when she had been alive France and England were probably at war. 

‘Morning Charlotte, I’m sorry for causing a ruckus last night,’ Arthur had learned long ago that unless he wanted a peaceful life in his house he needed to respect Charlotte and her boundaries, and the two things she hated most was loud noises and Frenchmen, any combination of the two and he had to live with constantly missing things and burnt toast. 

‘Still talking to your invisible friends Arthur,’ said Francis, stepping right through Charlotte and reaching into the fridge. 

Charlotte squawked silently, oh she was mad now, her hands began waving at Francis’s face but to no avail, he didn’t even shiver.  
‘What are you looking for in there? You can’t be hungry!’ he said in an attempt to move the subject away from the sensitive issue of ghosts – Francis didn’t believe in the superstitious and had laughed so hard when he discovered his, Lukas and Vladimir’s Black Magic Club at uni, that he peed a little in his pants. 

‘No, I will save my stomach the horrors of your food. No, I’m looking for my wallet, I have a feeling it’s in here somewhere…’ 

Francis pushed his hand a bit further into the fridge. Glancing over at Charlotte, Arthur noticed her expression had changed to a smug smirk, her arms crossed. Oh no, where had she- 

‘Mon dieu! Why is my credit card in the Greek yoghurt!’ cried Francis, his card now painted in thick white blobs of yoghurt that dripped onto the countertops, Smokey purred happily at the dairy treat, lapping it all up. 

‘You’re not missing anything else, are you?’ he asked Francis wearily, knowing Charlotte, she’d probably rifled through the Frenchman’s bag and hidden most of its contents away. 

‘My passport, it’s not in my bag or coat pockets.’ 

Crap. 

‘You go look for it then, I will boil the kettle.’ 

Francis groaned and walked into the utility room where he had thrown one of his shoes. After ten minutes of searching fruitlessly (and tea brewing), Arthur heard a girlish scream come from the bathroom. When he reached the source of the scream he found Francis on his knees in front of Smokey’s litter tray and indicating by the smell, it had been used very recently by Smokey, and peeking underneath a dollop of cat poo was Francis’s passport. Arthur snorted, clutching his sides as he tried to contain his laughter. Charlotte was cackling silently behind him. 

‘It’s not funny!’ whined Francis.

Arthur couldn’t even find the breath or words to reply. 

 

**

 

After an extremely thorough clean of the litter tray and passport. Arthur and Francis sat in his living room, nursing a cup of tea (or in Francis’s case coffee) in their hands, once again discussing Arthur’s love life. Honestly, thought Arthur, Francis probably ran some love guru podcast or something! 

‘Tinder, OkCupid and online dating is the future Arthur, you can’t find love at a café or library anymore, you have to go online!’ said Francis as he tapped away on his phone, showing the many boys and girls (his love contacts as he called them) on his Tinder page – there was even a Canadian. 

‘I don’t want to meet anyone. I am fine on my own.’ 

‘Now, now Arthur, you can’t live your life without amour!’ 

‘Perhaps you can’t but I can. Besides, most of these Alpha’s online want a quick fuck and then run. That or their axe murderers,’ said Arthur. 

‘Not all Alphas are bad. I don’t – ‘ 

‘When was the last time you had sex? Let me guess, yesterday morning. Was it the same person you were with last week?’ he asked pointedly, already knowing the answer. 

‘Well that’s beside the point and I will have you know it was the same person I was with last week. I am in a steady relationship now Arthur, I told you last night, don’t you recall?’ 

‘I thought that was drunk talk!’ he protested. 

They continued to argue back and forth over his rather lacking love life. They had the same conversation/argument each time Francis came round, usually, it would climax with Francis offering to introduce Arthur to some of his friends, to which Arthur refused vehemently, he knew what kind of friends Francis had. 

 

**

 

It was not until two weeks later when Arthur remembered that he still had Tinder on his phone and, out of curiosity and rising boredom whilst riding the commuter train into London Liverpool Street station, he decided to have a little snoop – he would never admit this to Francis though, as far as he was concerned the app was deleted the morning Francis left his house. 

Immediately he could tell Francis had been fiddling away at his picture gallery. His profile picture looked terribly promiscuous, it had been a themed Christmas party at work and he had gone in dressed as a sexy police officer wrapped in itchy tinsel. Vladimir had gone dressed up as a smutty Count Dracula. He groaned as he looked himself over, the white shirt was partially undone revealing some cherry pink nipples and a pale chest sprinkled with freckles. The police hat sat askew on his unruly hair, his green eyes appeared to be smouldering (if he recalled correctly, he had just had some very strong vodka). But it was the leather shorts that was the most…suggestive piece of the costume, the shorts had hugged his plumpish looking thighs and buttocks, showing off each and every curve. 

Flicking to the next picture there was a much more refined picture of him (it was surprising that Francis chose it rather than another embarrassingly suggestive picture). This had been taken last summer in his garden, he had been pleased with the blooming rose bush he had worked so hard on and had taken a selfie with Smokey. In the picture, he had a small smile and slightly sunburnt cheeks that were shaded by his massive straw sunhat. He supposed it showed a hobby of his, perhaps that was why Francis selected it? Smokey, being the natural poser that he was, had wrapped himself around his shoulders and doing that smirk that only cats can pull off. 

The final picture was of himself on his last holiday, asleep on a sun lounger on the sandy beach of Palma Nova in Mallorca. He was asleep with his favourite book, Emma, by Jane Austen, lying open on his bare chest. Felix was posing behind him, his pretty, pink string bikini leaving nothing to the imagination. Toris must have been taking the picture. Poor Toris, he had been stalked by a huge, bodybuilding Russian Alpha for two whole days on their holiday, it was not until both Arthur and Felix had threatened the Russian with some cutlery from the dining hall of the hotel and some rather creative threats, both in English, Polish and some Russian that Felix knew, did the git finally back off.

Apparently, Francis was quite articulate when drunk as his profile message read: 

Looking for a dreamy Alpha to sweep me off my feet. 

Very smooth. How on earth he was able to get all these dates was beyond him!

But maybe he was right? Of course, he would never admit it to Francis’s face but, he still held that hope that someone could love him – smell and all. Maybe he could just have a peek at what’s available. It couldn’t hurt just to look… 

Flicking onto what he called the ‘window shopping page’ he scrolled through the suggested Alphas and Betas in his local area. A lot of them looked like twenty-year-olds who had just popped their first knot. They all tended to pose in a similar fashion, a cocky smug smile or smirk, sometimes just a scowl, with a naked, bare chest showing off their rock-hard abs and spray tanned skin. The lower half of their bodies were clothed, but barely as the rim of their boxers hinted at the dark hair that was covered below. 

But there were others who obviously thought that smiling nicely at the camera was just wrong and glared at the camera as if they were Victorians. These guys didn’t seem to want to be on Tinder any more than Arthur wanted to. Perhaps they too had someone fiddling with their phones whilst they were passed out drunk? 

The majority of these Alpha’s he was swiping left for ‘No’, although there was the occasional Alpha that was just too hot to say no to. Apparently, these guys had liked him to as he received a few of the ‘you both swiped’ message pop-ups. What spooked him though was how addictive it was scrolling through all these profiles – it felt like harmless window shopping. 

The train suddenly jolted as it arrived into London Liverpool Street Station at spot on 8 o’clock Monday morning. Everyone in the train carriage was hurriedly stashing their laptops, phones and paperwork away before rushing off to the underground. Arthur hurried along with them, his phone resting in his pocket and Tinder left forgotten until 5 o’clock when he would leave work for home. 

 

**

 

When Arthur squeezed himself onto the overly packed train home he was already logging back on to look at Tinder and according to his notifications, he had received four new messages from some Alphas he had swiped right for. 

The first guy was ‘KNIGHT69’ which read: 

Hey, your kind of hot. Which 1 is u in the first pic? I dig vamps! 

Do these guys not look through the whole picture gallery?! 

The second guy, ‘SoldiaBoy11’ was obviously a man of few words: 

Hi 

Seriously? Not even a ‘How are you?’ at least the last guy had written fifteen words, although still incorrectly. 

The third Alpha, ‘HotDog’ was downright creepy:

I want you so bad. You are one hot little Omega. I promise I will make you moan and scream so loud. I will eat your ass out, I will suck on each nipple until you scream for mercy… 

And it went on like that for another three hundred words followed on by some suggestively gross emojis and gifs.  
Instant block. 

But the final Alpha, Hero7496, appeared to be a bit more promising, well he had at least thought for more than five seconds on what he would say in his message:

Hi  
Wow, you're really hot. I know you're probably getting a load of messages like this but I just thought that I should say ‘hi’  
So yeah  
How are you doing? 

[Insert Joey gif] 

He laughed at the old late nineties, cheesy clip of a much younger Matt LeBlanc winking at a skinny, hot Omega. Who would have thought that ‘Friends’ could be used for flirting? 

He hastily typed back a reply: 

Hi 

Thanks, you're rather cute too.  
I am doing well thanks 

[Insert cute, shy smiling gif] 

You like Friends?

Clicking ‘Send’ he instantly regretted what he typed. Damn, maybe he should have asked Francis on how to flirt on instant messenger?


	2. The Date Fail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur learns a little more about Charlotte and her...preferences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! 
> 
> I was really surprised by how many of you enjoyed the first chapter, thank you so much for reading, reviewing and leaving kudos - you are all so sweet! 
> 
> Sorry, this chapter is a bit late, had a bit of writer's block! Also sorry if this chapter seems a bit short, I am trying not to rush the plot. 
> 
> Almost every English date I have heard of usually congregates around a pub, its tradition! Also in every pub, I have been too (which is quite a few) the sports channel is constantly on, usually football, rugby, cricket or horse racing. 
> 
> So yeah, I thought I would show what Arthur has been facing over the last few years when it comes to dating, the fact that his smell (because of his irregular heats due to his health condition) puts Alphas off. 
> 
> Don't worry Alfred will be appearing in the next chapter and he is going to see more than just London ;P but seriously he will be going around some of the not so typical touristy areas outside of London. 
> 
> I was wondering though if any of you can think of anything you find confusing about British culture, I will try to incorporate it into Alfred's holiday experience :) 
> 
> Thanks again for reading and see you next time :D

Trying to explain online dating to a four hundred and something-year-old ghost and a lethargic cat was not what first came to Arthur’s mind when he thought of his Monday evening.

It had all begun when he was flicking through Tinder’s selections; Charlotte rarely cared for technology, unless it was an episode of Doctor Who, in which case no one, not even Smokey was allowed to make a noise as she watched the screen fixatedly. But, this evening, she was presumably bored she had looked over Arthur’s shoulder at the worse time – unfortunately one particular Alpha – KNOTACULAR – believed that instead of his face being his profile picture his enlarged knot was even better. If Charlotte could speak then Arthur’s ears would be bleeding by now.

This unfortunate situation led to thirty minutes of his life trying to explain the main concept of Tinder. He made sure to avoid mentioning Francis’s involvement, it would only make things worse.

‘So, once you have created a profile you then have to go through all these other people’s profiles depending on who you like. I don’t know if an Omega can choose to see other Omegas or an Alpha see another Alpha, they should do though – any way you then swipe your finger on the screen for left which means no or swipe right for yes. You get it?’

Charlotte looked at him as if he was a simpleton but nodded her head anyway. Smokey just yawned, he was neutered so maybe that meant he didn’t care about dating.

‘If you swipe right and the other guy also swiped right then it means you can talk to each other, like text, but through the app. You just have to be careful because some messages I get are just, well they are just gross.’

Now Charlotte looked concerned and pointed her finger at his phone insistently.

‘You-you want to see them?’

Charlotte nodded.

‘Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ Arthur opened up his message inbox and showed Charlotte the message from ‘HotDog’ to which she screeched silently and attempted to smack his phone away, her hand went straight through his.

‘I know, I know they are weirdos, but not all of them are like that. I mean this guy ain’t so bad!’ he said, bringing up a message from ‘Hero7496’ – ‘this man, he seems sweet. His name is Alfred Jones, he’s a lawyer, I think? And we both like Pokemon and we like the same films and…well he’s kind of good looking too…’

Charlotte still didn’t seem convinced so he showed her his profile picture. ‘Hero7496’ or otherwise known as Alfred, stood on a green open field wearing leather bomber jacket and khakis (how did this guy know his one weakness, uniforms!) the guy was a bit of a poser for the camera as he wore one, big Hollywood grin and had a thumbs up outstretched to the camera, all the picture needed now was an ‘I’m the hero!’ speech bubble.

‘What do you think?’ he asked.

She shrugged, obviously, uniforms were not her thing, he should have known, the last time he had dressed up for a Halloween themed pub crawl with Vladimir before he left for Romania, he had dressed as a sexy, zombie pirate (not easy to pull off) and Charlotte had just laughed at him!

Okay, time to kick it up a notch.

‘Well, he has more than one picture, what do you think of this? You cannot deny that he looks good in this.’

He selected a picture of the American walking out of the ocean wearing star-spangled patterned swimming trunks. His tanned skin glistened in the bright sunlight and salty sea water, diving goggles hanging loosely from his hand and a grin that could warm even an Englishman’s heart sat securely on his face.

‘I mean how can you say no to that face and body?!’

Apparently, Charlotte could, she just shrugged her shoulders again, although now finding this ordeal a little funnier if her smile was anything to go by.

‘Okay, okay fine let’s see. This is the last pic I have of him, but it’s really sweet, it even has puppies.’

Charlotte brightened up at the mention of puppies. Before Arthur had adopted Smokey he had been considering getting a puppy. Charlotte had been incredibly insistent on getting a one too, usually leaving ‘subtle’ hints around the house. But, because Arthur worked away from home and Charlotte, was well dead, no one could look after a little puppy.  
The last picture had Alfred sitting amongst a litter of varying breeds of puppies, American Pit Bulls, Golden Retrievers, Labradors, German Shepherds and a Pug. If there was ever a competition for the world’s cutest picture then this one was surely a strong contender.

‘I mean look here, he’s volunteering at a dog shelter, you have to admit that that is attractive in an Alpha.’

Charlotte sighed silently and nodded weakly in defeat. Well, at least she had admitted that it was a cute picture but she seemed reluctant to call Alfred hot.

‘Okay seriously what is your type?’ he asked the silent ghost. She pondered for a moment before flitting away to the dining table where the TV Guide sat idly by the fruit bowl, she flicked through the glossy pages, sometimes pausing briefly before continuing on. Suddenly, she stopped her finger pointing at none other than Jennifer Lawrence who was sporting a tight black dress with a deep plunge. Jennifer was one of the most popular Betas in Hollywood for she could act as a pregnant and demure Omega in one film and in the other, she was kicking ass as an Alpha.

‘Soo, you fancy blondes, do you?’ he teased.

Charlotte was frazzled and harrumphed away before he could tease any more information out of the poor, mute ghost.

**

It was Saturday night, six p.m. to be exact, and Arthur was attempting to brush his frazzled, dark blonde hair but no matter how much chemical product, healthy or nuclear, it refused to keep in its desired shape. In the end, Arthur threw the brush across the room, grabbed his jacket, mobile and keys and dashed out of the front door.

He was late.

Late for a date.

At first, he had been excited to meet the Alpha, but now he was unsure. Meeting new people for him was never easy and usually included an awkward comment about his scent. But this was different than starting a new job or introducing himself to a new class, this was a date. He hoped, perhaps a little naively, that the Alphas profile was honest. The guy in question was called Stephen Pitts, he had a nice smiling profile picture with curly brown locks that framed his features, lightly tanned skin and he worked as a photographer. They both loved football and rugby (although for Arthur for slightly different reasons, he thought with a smirk), both enjoyed a good pint or two and liked Jane Austen novels (that had been a surprise, very few Alphas admitted they had ever read the books, even though they were on the school curriculum).

But, he had an escape plan, two to be exact. The first plan in case things began to get awkward was to nip to the toilets, set a timer for five minutes on his phone once he was back at their table and claim he had to go, his mum needed help (he wasn’t sure with what, maybe with trying to catch the chickens again?) If things were going really badly, Arthur would escape through the kitchens, he knew the chef at the restaurant who could smuggle him out of the building, Romano, a fiery Omega who knew a Spanish guy who was pals with Francis.

Once again life all came down to connections.

**

This date wasn’t going well, thought Arthur as he sipped his foamy pint.  
The pub was abuzz as a football match, a friendly between Germany and England, fired up the young and old locals, Alphas and Omegas, united in their love for the ‘beautiful game’ or more likely ‘how the manager/ref is wrong and I am always right’. He glanced quickly up at the flat screen TV that was mounted above the inglenook fireplace, Germany 2 – England nil, what a surprise.

Stephen was sat across from him, sitting stiffly and looking anywhere but him, and noticeably was avoiding breathing through his nose.

‘Do-do you smoke?’ Stephen asked but still avoiding eye contact.

‘No, not anymore, kicked the habit after my punk phase,’ he replied nonchalantly, his tongue quickly swiping his closed up lip piercing, his tattoos still remained a fond yet constant reminded of his rebel days.

Stephen visibly gulped, as if like a cartoon character caught between a rock and a hard place.

‘Oh well, just heading out for a quick puff! Be back in a tick!’

And he was off like a shot, almost barrelling into a group of tipsy Betas before diving out the door. He had taken his jacket with him even though it was not a cold evening.

Yeah, he wasn’t coming back.

He sighed to himself before flicking his phone open and deleting Stephen Pitts from his Tinder account.

Then the room exploded into a roar of cheers as, simultaneously, a message from Alfred pinged onto his screen as England finally scored a goal.

_Hey!_

_Guess what!_

_I'm coming to London!_

_Do you think we could meet?_

_(I understand if you don’t wanna though)_

Arthur pondered the prospect of seeing Alfred, he liked the man, he seemed genuine (although so had Stephen Pitts). He’d been stood up, ditched and outright rejected on dates for the majority of his adult life, his heart had turned to ice, nothing (at least visibly) could hurt him, so what could one more date do? Besides, it would probably end up with Arthur becoming a free tour guide service and then never hear from him again.

It's not like he would fall in love with him.

So why was he on Tinder? If he thought no one could love him.  
Possibly because he still holds some small hope that someone will accept him.

Maybe.

_Hi,_

_Yeah, that would be great, but seriously, I am going to show you the real England, not just poncy London!_

_When are you coming?_


	3. Discoveries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone! 
> 
> I am so sorry for keeping you waiting, I have been super busy over the last two months, went on holiday to France and then to Spain so I am a little tired from all this travelling. I swear if I have to go through another security check I will scream! 
> 
> Anyway, as I promised Alfred is in this chapter :) so in my story, Alfred comes from a wealthy family, raised by his single mum. Alfred's dad is American and is a bit of an old player, see before Alfred was born he was already dating a woman in Canada who then had a son, Matthew. Alfred's dad can never settle down and he will be making an appearance later on in the story. 
> 
> Mattie is also here, I think if I remember correctly Mattie is the slightly older sibling, I have also made him an Omega in this story - I may possibly develop his love story a bit more as well ;) 
> 
> Another thing I wanted to explain, in my Omegaverse there is still discrimination towards Omegas but it is more subtle - a bit like how society thinks that because gay marriage is legal there is no such thing as homophobia. Anyway, in the UK there is a law that all employers must follow where Omegas are given extra annual days off that are specifically for their heats - because I would hate to have to use up my own annual leave for a heat! Heats also don't happen every month because I think that will be rather tiring so Omegas have a heat every season. However, because of Arthur's condition, he only gets one or two heats a year. 
> 
> Anyway, I think that's about it, please read, leave kudos or comment and let me know what you think :)

Spread across Alfred’s youthful face was a manic grin, his teeth blindingly white like any polished Hollywood star’s. His hands shook with poorly contained excitement, he was giddy with joy and drunk with adrenaline. He was looking down at the now black screen on his phone, but whatever information it had provided was already ingrained in his mind and hence why he hadn’t woken the phone up again from its light slumber. 

‘A-Alfred, are you alright?’ Matt asked stuttering as having never seen his Alpha, half-brother so excited and yet so silent. The mystery was burning his insides up, but unlike his brother, he only showed hints of his emotions, usually through stutters, rather than physical shaking. 

‘He said yes,’ Alfred whispered, his sky-blue eyes now staring widely back at Matt, his eyeballs threatening to pop out from his eye sockets. 

‘Who said yes? To what?’ 

Alfred’s mouth immediately clammed up, his lips sealed shut as if they were stitched together like Loki’s in one of those old Norse stories (well Matt did minor in Norse mythology).   
But this was strange, Alfred was one big show off, he loved receiving the most attention, ever since they were kids Alfred would always demand the most attention. He presumed that this mystery ‘he’ was a guy Alfred fancied…wait had Alfred proposed via text?! 

Classy. 

‘Did you propose marriage to this guy or something?’ said Matt, baiting his younger brother into revealing the truth. 

But Alfred didn’t, he remained quiet, his lips still sealed. 

Matt sighed, time to play the annoying big brother, he rarely played the card because he didn’t often need to, at least not since the days when Matt towered over him, which was what fifteen years ago? It’s a lot harder to play the ‘superior older sibling card’ when you don’t have the preferential height. 

As quick as the Flash Matt swiped Alfred’s phone from his hands and dashed into Starbucks restrooms. 

That woke Alfred up from his fitful daze for he was hot on Matt’s heels and had almost caught him had he not collided with a tower of coffee cups. The cups clattered onto the floor, burying the poor and bashful Alfred. 

Matt locked himself away in an empty and surprisingly clean cubicle, luck was evidently on his side today as the passcode he put into Alfred’s phone, ‘1776’, still worked! Damnit, Alfred, Matt chastised his brother in his head, if he still used that as a password he probably still used his other favourite password that he had used when he was ten ‘aLiEnSaReReAl12345’. 

The background on Alfred’s phone was of Alfred grinning next to Mickey Mouse at Disneyland from his trip last year with some of his friends from his fraternity, the boys had somehow managed to smuggle in some beer and weed and had gotten high and drunk at the park, needless to say, they were thrown out and Alfred narrowly avoided a night in a jail cell, Matt still had no idea how he managed that one – maybe Mickey Mouse vouched for his good character or paid his bail? 

Oh ho, what is this? His wee baby brother, who he can vividly remember crying and wetting his pants every time an Omega even looked at him, has Tinder! 

Man, he couldn’t wait to tell their dad this. 

Opening the app up and entering Alfred’s old password, which surprise, surprise, it actually worked!

So, who has Alfred been sexting then? 

By the looks of it, no one, at least sexting. Scrolling through Alfred’s inbox there were tens of sad, lonely messages from Alfred to a pretty Omega just saying ‘Hi’ or ‘Hey’ – how on earth did Alfred expect to meet someone with such lame starts? 

But then he came across, at the bottom of the pile, a longer message chain with a guy called ‘Arthur’, clearly, he did not get the memo that the vast majority of Tinder use usernames. Reading through the three months worth of messages, all rather tame and actually a bit sweet in some places and others funny memes and gifs being exchanged. By the looks of it, this ‘Arthur’ was British as he spelt a lot of words with a ‘u’ or an ‘s’ and kept on using gifs from Dr Who, Sherlock and Harry Potter. 

Well, at least the guy was consistent with his national stereotype, just like Alfred!

The messages had suddenly stopped about four weeks ago where they had exchanged cell phone numbers. Clicking out of Tinder, Matt went through Alfred’s messages where he came across a text from Arthur that was just sent about ten minutes ago, just when Alfred had seized up with nerves and glee. 

The text read: 

Arthur: Hi,  
Yeah, that would be great, but seriously, I am going to show you the real England, not just poncy London!  
When are you coming?

(Today 10:21)

Arthur: Oh shit, that sounds really dirty! Ahh! I didn’t mean it like that! I am so sorry! I am not a weirdo I swear! 

(Today 10:22)

Arthur: Alfred? Are you okay? 

(Today 10:35)

Whoops, looks like Matt had delayed Alfred’s reply. 

‘Matt! Mattie!’ 

Speaking of the devil. 

‘I’m in here!’ he replied. 

‘Please Mattie, give me my phone back,’ Alfred begged. 

Alfred’s phone dinged cheerily again from another message that had come across the Atlantic, damn that boy was anxious over one text? 

‘MATTIE! Give it back!’ Alfred shouted, his hands banging on the cubicle door. 

‘Fine, fine, here ya go,’ he relented, ‘but don’t hit me or I will tell dad!’ 

‘Yeah, yeah deal, deal, now give me my phone!’ 

His cracked screen iPhone skidded underneath the cubicle door. 

‘Eww! Matt!’ 

‘Oh stop your complaining!’ 

 

**

Arthur was all aflutter, he couldn’t think straight and his hands kept reaching out for his mobile which was currently charging on his bedside table. It was only ten o’clock but after the failure of a date this evening (and England losing massively against Germany, 4:1) all he had wanted to do was curl up in bed with Smokey purring contently in his ear. 

He had to be up at six tomorrow morning for work, but all he could think about was his stupid, overexcited text he had sent to Alfred. Why did he say that?! He’s probably scared off the only Alpha that has shown any interest in him. Although, he had yet to smell him, at which point he could very likely run for the next flight back to the US. 

‘GAH!’ he cried and whacking a fluffy pillow to his beet red face. 

Smokey yowled and hissed at him before settling further down the bed, away from antsy Omegas and flying pillows. 

Just then Charlotte floated through the door, her face painted with quiet concern, she glided over to Arthur’s side where she rested a freezing, transparent hand to his forehead. 

‘No need to worry Charlotte, it’s not a heat, I’ve already had one this year and I probably won’t have another one until Christmas. I’m just being silly,’ he reassured her. 

His phone suddenly twitted like a sparrow, the screen casting a white glow to the room. Arthur dived for his mobile, but it wasn’t a text from Alfred, it was from Lukas. Arthur hadn’t heard from him for at least a month. 

Lukas: Hi Arthur,   
I hope you're doing well


End file.
